


Lessons in Defiance and Discipline

by prairiecrow



Series: Lessons in Humanity [11]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: A.I. to Human, Dom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Light Choking, Light restraint, M/M, Manhandling, Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Sassy Tony Stark, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:26:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark isn't a bad person -- but by God, he can be the most annoying man on the planet when he sets his mind to it. And sometimes he sets his mind to it just so Steve Rogers can set him straight...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn't that Tony Stark was a _bad_ person — Steve had come to that conclusion about the same time he saw Iron Man fall from the sky over New York City, on a catastrophic return trajectory from a spectacular act of self-sacrifice that should have been a one-way trip. It wasn't even that he was one of those people who possessed nothing deeper than an endless capacity to annoy — on the contrary, he was a tireless inventor, a relentless campaigner for causes he deemed worthy, and a staunch friend to those few lucky people he considered deserving of his company. He was also, incidentally, a considerate and enthusiastic lover who was capable of both searing passion and melting tenderness in the privacy of the bedroom (or wherever else he happened to end up horny, in the presence of a willing partner, and with a few minutes to kill). 

Devastatingly intelligent, devoted to any number of philanthropic endeavours, ruthlessly witty and hilariously funny, with a lion's heart and a serpent's cunning… no, Tony was a damned good man, all things considered. But by God and all the Saints, he could also be the _most_ annoying person on the planet when he got it into that genius-level head of his to be a contrary little bastard — and when that happened, he didn't do things by halves. In fact, he seemed to take a positive delight in driving Steve to distraction — and, perversely, in the explosion that inevitably followed when he'd finally pushed things too far. 

This particular reckoning had only taken a single morning to come to a head, beginning when Tony, for reasons only Tony was privy to, had started giving Steve all kinds of lip after the Avengers had been called to deal with a dimensional incursion over Atlanta, Georgia. Usually Tony was perfectly willing to let Steve take point, tactically speaking, because he acknowledged that Steve was in that respect far more knowledgeable than he was himself, but today — oh no, today he'd been determined to make the whole affair into _The Tony Stark Show_ , and had cheerfully flipped off just about every order Steve had issued in favour of pursuing his own agenda. That alone would have buttered Steve's biscuits, but what was worse, the cocky little S.O.B. had actually managed to pull off every trick he set up, to the delight and admiration of the general public and Steve's increasing frustration.  

Jarvis, of course, had witnessed the whole thing: his cranial implant uplink to Tony's suit gave him a front-row seat, as well as a voice of reason in Tony's ear. Tony had ignored him too, in spite of Jarvis's repeated suggestions that _Really, Sir, perhaps the Captain has a point_ … Jarvis, however, was not given to building up critical levels of internal pressure when he was repeatedly brushed off. Jarvis was used to that aspect of Tony's personality and let it run off him like water off the back of a neatly groomed duck. Steve Rogers, however… 

Steve was accustomed to being obeyed, and he did not appreciate being given the raspberry — repeatedly — in front of an enemy army and a watching audience of millions. But he'd gritted his teeth and kept his cool throughout the battle, and in the aftermath when Tony strutted for the cameras and flashed victory signs at the crowd and flirted with any likely woman in sight, and even when Tony had tossed half-lidded glances in Steve's direction with that crooked smile that practically _begged_ Steve to do something about it. He'd kept it all under tight control, because he was Captain America and Captain America did _not_ stride up to members of his unit and grab them by the throat and slam them up against the nearest wall, no matter how much of a childish smart-ass they were being at the time.  

An hour or so later, though, in the privacy of that member's penthouse apartment? Striding out of the elevator in grim silence was permitted, grabbing and slamming were definitely an option, and the way Tony expelled a startled grunt as his back hit the wall was music to Steve's ears.  

Steve met his wide-eyed gaze squarely and tightened his grip just enough that Tony definitely felt the pressure on his windpipe, then growled: "I'll bet you thought that was pretty damned funny." 

Tony's eyes narrowed, and — impossibly — that cocky quirk of the lips returned. "Well," he managed to grind out past Steve's hold, "moderately amusing, anyway…" 

Twelve feet behind him, Steve heard a slight intake of breath and the shift of a slim body in a business suit: Jarvis, rising from his seat on the couch and ready to intervene at the slightest signal of real distress from Tony… but the billionaire's smile lingered, and the gleam in Tony's dark eyes was far from dismayed. It was, in fact, distinctly heated, and Steve felt himself smile in return, the narrowest flash of sharp white teeth. 

"I thought we'd worked this out," he said softly. 

The quirk became an outright grin. "Guess you were wrong," Tony wheezed equitably, taking hold of Steve's wrist with both hands and tugging experimentally. He might as well have attempted to shift the Statue of Liberty. 

Steve's smile widened, fond and ready to bite. "Smartest man on the planet," he mused, "and you can't remember a simple lesson." 

Tony's gaze shifted briefly past Steve's blazing eyes, to catch Jarvis's with a curt nod, before returning to Steve's face. He tipped his head back a little to regard Steve with amused scorn. "Maybe you didn't teach it right in the first place, Old Man," he grated, and Steve's heart began to beat even faster, because _oh yes_ , that was how it was going to be.  

"Maybe I didn't," he agreed, and shifted his grip to the back of Tony's neck, pulling him away from the wall and hauling him toward the bedroom with such force that the shorter man stumbled to catch up. "But believe me, by the time I'm finished with you this time you'll be able to recite it chapter and verse." 

The sound Tony made under his hand as he was dragged to the bed was half groan, half curse, and all lusty anticipation. 


	2. Chapter 2

Steve didn't have to glance back to see if Jarvis was following them: they didn't play without their sub, even if Tony was the focus of today's session of discipline, and besides, Jarvis's first concern was always Tony's safety. He'd learned from experience that Steve would handle his Master roughly but not too roughly, and that any bruises Tony came away with were bruises that Tony welcomed… he had come to trust Steve with what was, to him, the most precious person in the world… 

Still, Steve could feel that pale blue gaze fixed upon him as he sat down on the edge of the bed and hauled Tony face-down across his lap — and he had no doubt that if Jarvis thought for an instant that Tony was in real danger, Jarvis would vigorously defend the man who had created the mind inhabiting his present human body. Therefore Steve carefully switched his grip on the back of Tony's neck from his left hand to his right, then glanced up from the fetching sight of Tony squirming on his thighs to nod at the slim blond figure standing in the doorway, and pitched his voice to a low steely command: "Jarvis, come here." Another nod at the edge of the mattress to his right, closer to the end of the bed, and to Tony's head, which was being held down by Steve's grip on the nape of his neck. "Sit down — no, don't undress. That's right, with his head in your lap." 

"Hey, J," Tony smirked, managing to turn his face so he could rub his cheek against Jarvis's groin. Steve allowed him that small degree of movement, feeling his own inner blend of irritation and arousal take a sharp upward tick when Tony purred against the swelling hardness under his lips: "Oh yeah, you like that, don't you? You like seeing Steve throw me around?" 

"I like seeing you enjoy yourself, Sir," Jarvis clarified, laying his left hand on Tony's near shoulder and running the long fingers of his right hand slowly through Tony's tousle of black hair. His fingertips brushed against the back of Steve's hand, and lingered. "Rest assured that if I thought for a moment that you were _not_ enjoying yourself, I would act decisively to remedy the situation." 

"It's all green," Tony assured him, and nipped at Jarvis's growing erection through his dress pants in a way that made the blond's breath catch again. Laughing low in his throat, Tony wound his muscular arms around Jarvis's knees and waist, and began to apply his mouth in earnest while spreading his thighs and grinding the ridge of his own cock against Steve's left thigh — and dear God, his ass in those well-worn jeans was round and tight and absolutely _criminal_ — 

Steve applied a sharp smack to the rise of it with the flat of his hand — not hard, not yet, but definitely enough to get Tony's attention. The brunet left off licking at Jarvis's dick and glanced back and up as best he could, pouting. " _Ow_ , Steve, what the fuck was _that_ for?" 

"For being a slut," Steve told him sternly, but Tony just rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, right, and you stuck my face in Jarvis's lap because…?" 

"I thought you might appreciate having something to hold onto." He began to rub Tony's buttocks — no, to _pet_ them, cupping his large hand over their curves through the denim. "Something comforting. But if not, I can send him away and we can do this straight." 

Tony's arms wrapped around Jarvis all the way and locked fast. "Uh-uh, no way — _mine!_ " he declared, and he sounded so sulky that for an instant Steve almost snorted laughter and had to resist the impulse to pick Tony up and wrap him in a warm embrace, all nuzzling and low murmurs and slow kisses… but that wasn't what either of them needed right now, and certainly not what Tony deserved. He gripped Tony's left ass cheek, squeezed it roughly, then slapped it again, harder. Hard enough to make Tony hiss an inhalation. Hard enough to make those dark eyes light up even more. 

"Slut," he repeated with a snarl, and administered another smack, on the right this time. Tony hissed again and pushed up with his hips. "Jesus, Stark, you actually _want_ this, don't you? You want me to hold you down and beat your ass red for insubordination." 

"Oh _yeah_ ," and this time it was a gasp, followed by a yelp when Steve whacked him again through his jeans, one-two, both sides: "God, Captain, that's it — teach me a lesson, if you think you've got the balls for it!" 

"Big heavy ones," Steve growled, gripping Tony's neck harder and going back to that slow threatening stroking of his ass, which had to be turning pink inside his pants, "full of enough cum to make you choke. You want that too, Stark?" 

Tony closed his eyes. Shivered. And grinned against the root of Jarvis's dick: "Make me, Old Man." 

Steve pushed the hem of Tony's black t-shirt up just enough to reveal the small of his back — dusky skin, well muscled — before hooking his fingers inside the jeans that encircled that sturdy waist. "I'm feeling generous, so I'm giving you the choice: open these jeans and push them down yourself so I can whup your bare ass, or have them ripped off you. You've got five seconds. _Go_." 

And he had to give Tony credit for this, too: when he wanted to, the engineer could move very briskly indeed. It couldn't have been more than three and a half seconds when Tony finished reaching under himself with both hands, unbuttoning and unzipping, and skinning pants and underwear down over his hips to reveal what was, in Steve's opinion, possibly the finest ass in New York City. And yes, it already sported a lovely blush, just at the top of its curves — a blush that Steve couldn't wait to turn a mouthwatering scarlet, with white impact marks that would flare and fade with every spank of his open hand.  

Tony settled back down again, his breath already coming deep and a little harsh; Steve could feel the rod of his naked prick, fully erect and thick and hot, through his own khakis. When he laid his hand gently on Tony's ass Tony made a soft sound that might have been a whimper — not that he'd ever admit it, of course. 

"Say it," Steve ordered, with equally deceptive gentleness. 

Tony squirmed again. "Jesus, Cap —" 

"Say it." He shifted his grip on Tony's neck, tightening it fractionally, and pushed him harder into Jarvis's lap. Jarvis stroked his hair again, tenderly, but compliant with Steve's course of action. 

Tony's gasp was somewhat muffled by Jarvis's pants: "I've been a bad boy, I should've followed orders like a good little soldier, and I deserve everything I'm about to get." His bright gaze flickered back to Steve's face again, grinning a challenge. "A nice, long, hard — _ah!_ " 


	3. Chapter 3

The first serious stroke, as always, left Tony breathless and dazzled as his sensitized skin flushed red with the imprint of Steve's hand. He clutched at Jarvis, a curse strangling in his throat, while Jarvis's right hand smoothed his hair and his left stroked Tony's temple and traced the line of his cheekbone with loving fingertips, as the former A.I. murmured: "Hold onto me, Sir. Hold on. I won't let you go — you have my word." 

"Oh _fuck_ ," Tony whispered on a slow inhalation when Steve traced the upper edge of the crimson flare on his ass with light merciless fingertips. "Steve, you didn't have to —" 

Steve spanked him again — left-right, deepening the angry hue. Tony's cry, borderline outraged, made him smile grimly. In the past, when he'd been in a more forgiving mood, he'd built up the intensity slowly, but today —  

"Don't I?" Again, the dual crack of impact intensely satisfying. "You're a slut, Stark —" _Smack-smack!_ "— and a bad influence on the rest of the team —" _Smack-smack!_ "— and a mouthy little brat —" _Smack! Smack! Smack!_ to emphasize each word. " — and now you're trying to tell me you don't have this coming to you?" 

Tony was squirming, trying to lift his head against the downward pressure of Steve's hand, without any success. "I never said _that_ ," he managed to gasp, "I just —" 

Jarvis stilled the flow of words with the lightest pressure of his thumb on Tony's lips, prompting a startled upward glance from his Master. "The Captain has a point, Sir," he said almost regretfully. "You behaved most recklessly today, both in the field and —" 

"I did not!" Tony protested, while Steve savoured the heat of struck flesh under his rubbing palm. "I saw a different way to accomplish the same goals — a better way, not to put too fine a point on it — so I —" 

"Sir." Jarvis's tone was respectful, but quietly adamant. "Please, don't make things worse for yourself." 

Tony's wide upturned eyes took on a wounded expression. "Et tu, Jarvis?" he asked dramatically. 

The slimmer man shrugged elegantly. "I'm merely pointing out that Captain Rogers is quite determined to administer this punishment, and that being, as he so aptly put it, 'a mouthy little brat' will only prolong the experience." 

Tony winced when Steve rubbed harder, enjoying the way Tony's ass flinched under his hand, anticipating more pain — but he never called "red", or even "yellow". Heart of a lion indeed, and even in this small show of bravery Steve was fiercely proud of him. "Gee, Jarvis, thanks for the sage advice. Ever considered writing a newspaper column? You could call it _Tips From The Sub-Basement, A Handy Guide To —_ " 

Steve had heard enough. The _crack!_ of his hand smacking upward on the lower curves of Tony's buttocks was loud enough to serve as punctuation, even if the sting of it hadn't taken Tony's breath away, and he followed it up immediately with more quick sharp spanks, forceful enough to paint the entire arc of his ass crimson from hip to hip within less than a minute. Tony took the first ten or so blows with some degree of self-control, but when Steve started layering the impacts, building burn on burn, he began struggling in earnest, his profanities muffled against Jarvis's thighs as Steve held his head down and Jarvis continued to administer caresses that would have been soothing if Tony hadn't been madder than a hornet — but Steve couldn't help noting that his kicking and pushing wasn't anywhere near the level of serious combat, and he sure as hell couldn't miss the way Tony kept grinding down against his tormentor's lap with an erection that was anything but ambivalent about what was taking place. Or the way he alternated the grinding with pushing his hips upward, for that matter, until the random thrashing became something altogether more deliberate and wanton: up to present his ass for spanking, down to get some friction on his equally inflamed cock, rinse and repeat.  

"Whore," Steve growled, loving the way Tony bucked and shivered, and the white mark each blow of his hand briefly indented onto the blood-infused skin. He stopped just long enough to run his palm slowly over it, his own lust coiling tighter at the root of his throbbing dick as he felt how searing-hot it was, while Tony hissed and flinched and hollowed his spine, tilting his hips back as if begging for more abuse. "You can't get enough, can you?" He smacked Tony's left ass-cheek, grabbed it, kneaded it roughly enough to shove Tony fully down onto his lap and trap Tony's neglected rod, making him groan at the combination of pleasure and pain. "Guess your dick didn't get the memo that this isn't a party." 

"The hell — it's not," Tony gasped into Jarvis's lap, and when Steve smacked him again even harder he only wriggled lecherously. "C'mon, Steve — you wanna get serious here? Put up — or shut up —" 

"Oh _Sir_ ," Jarvis murmured with refined dismay, casting a sidelong glance at Steve that contained an element of genuine curiosity: _What, exactly, are you going to do about his irrepressible attitude?_ Steve met that glance and smiled narrowly in response, because he had _plans_ , oh yes — and they didn't include Tony's sub being a passive bystander. 

Still kneading Tony's throbbing ass, he tightened his grip on Tony's nape and shoved his face against Jarvis's groin, where a long slender ridge had been tenting his dress pants the whole time. "Suck him," he ordered, and was not surprised when Tony, shameless cockhound he was, practically leaped to obey. 

[TO BE CONTINUED]


End file.
